Page 97 of A Matter of Murder

“Georgie, you’re meddling,” he said, but he couldn’t help the teasing lilt in his voice.

“Fine,” she said, heaving a sigh.

In the distance, they could hear the sound of a woman’s voice calling out. Darcy turned toward the door. “What is that?”

“Georg-i-a-NA!” came the voice.

“Ugh, Mrs. Watts,” Georgiana said, pulling away from her brother. “I thought she’d be laid up until tomorrow with that headache—they always last days. I better go see what she wants. Are you coming?”

“I think I’ll stay out here a little longer.” He wanted to linger in this place and try not to think about his troubles for a little while.

“All right,” Georgiana said, and she stood up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Don’t stay out too long.”

“Good night, Georgiana,” he said, watching his sister turn to go.

“Good night, Brother,” she said. She paused at the door and said, “Fitz?”

He turned back to her. No one but she called him that, and even that, rarely. “Yes?”

“I won’t meddle, but I do think that you’re making things more difficult than they need to be. You and Lizzie love each other, do you not?”

He nodded.

“Then be happy. Be together.”

In the distance, he heard Mrs. Watts call out, “Georgiana! Where are you?”

“Thank you, Georgie,” he said.

She left Darcy in the flickering candlelight. He wished he could see their circumstances as clearly as Georgiana. He wished it was as easy as love conquering any and all obstacles. But thetruth was, marriage would create problems for them both, and he wouldn’t pressure her into it simply because they loved each other. He wanted to know that Lizzie was ready to embrace that next step.

Behind him, Darcy heard the soft scuffing of light footsteps descending the steps into the grotto. He sighed and began to turn around. “Have you come back to harangue me some more, or are—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before a rush of movement overwhelmed him, followed by splitting pain, and then everything went black.

Twenty-Four

In Which Lizzie and Georgiana Encounter a Pair of Trespassers

Lizzie awoke the next morning with a rather embarrassing thought: She never wanted to leave Pemberley.

Of course, she wasn’t being serious. Mostly. She really did miss London and its bustling energy, and she’d always wanted the chance to travel beyond the bounds of England. But if one had to be confined to one estate whilst figuring out how to avoid being trapped in the clutches of a murderous criminal, there really were worse places to be.

Her room was sumptuously decorated in a calming green, and the four-poster bed was like a cloud. The windows overlooked the river as it ran into the woods, and Lizzie imagined that view was as pretty at the height of summer as it was in the darkest depths of winter. And beyond her own bedchamber, she noted that every room she had been shown was beautifully furnished with elegant pieces that seemed sophisticated and timeless, chosen for their quality, not because they happened to be theheight of fashion. Each room had a slightly different view of the grounds, none of which was anything less than astonishing. But grandeur aside, Lizzie felt an immediate ease at Pemberley. Guy, too, had seemed equally happy to traipse through halls the previous evening, finding new things to sniff and making friends with every servant.

In short, Pemberley was a dream. And Lizzie was intensely grateful that her mother was not here to see it, for if she were, Lizzie would surely never hear the end of it.

It was not lost on her, of course, the implication of Darcy bringing her here, beyond the need to see to her immediate safety. Darcy had made no attempts to disguise that he wanted to marry her—the only thing he hadn’t done was propose. But Lizzie knew all he needed was some kind of signal from her, and he would. Then she could be mistress of this estate one day.

But probably not before Darcy was cast out of his father’s life.

Lizzie loved her family, despite their many eccentricities and embarrassments, and she could not imagine the idea of being permanently cut off from them. And now that she had seen Pemberley, and spent more time with Georgiana, she wondered—how on earth could she ask Darcy to give it all up, just to marry her?

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, and the door opened and Georgiana peeked in. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

Guy let out a happy bark and ran up to her, and Georgiana laughed and picked him up. “Did you sleep well?”

“It was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had,” she answered honestly.